


In Agony

by naturallesbain



Series: Rewriting The Deaths [4]
Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Hurt/No Comfort, M/M, the aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturallesbain/pseuds/naturallesbain
Relationships: Johnny Cade & Dallas Winston
Series: Rewriting The Deaths [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961923
Kudos: 3





	In Agony

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the pain. 

My stomach and legs hurt really bad. 

My head felt like it had been hit with a metal bat, and the bright lights didn't help. 

This isn't what death is supposed to feel like.

I thought it would be peaceful. 

My vision cleared more, still a little fuzzy, but I could hear the heart monitor let off steady beeps, see the white ceiling and walls, and as I glanced around, I could see I was next to a window. 

The setting sun reminded me of what happened, the way Johnny's chest stopped rising, and the sound of gunshots ringing through the nearly empty street. 

I drifted my hand to my stomach, feeling the bandages as I continued to look out the window, the setting sun reminding me of the flames of the church. 

I remembered as seductive kisses of agony peppered themselves down my back. 

I couldn't control the tears springing to my eyes, the burn and heat of them burning my face like the whisps and smoke of the church fire. 

I remember death curling its hands around my body as I felt my body get cold. 

I drifted a bandaged hand up to my mouth to stifle the sobs, closing my eyes tightly as I gripped onto whatever memory of Johnny I could grasp. 

I struggled to breathe, trying to focus on the setting sun, but it wasn't helping, nothing was. 

The sheets felt rough against my skin, the St. Christophers sitting cold on my chest, and the blanket felt too heavy. 

I looked back up at the ceiling, hand going down to rest against the stiff mattress as I focused on counting the tiles. 

"1,2,3,4," I counted to myself out loud, taking deep breathes as I welcomed the sterile air into my lungs, the smell of antiseptic evident. 

I looked back at the window, the sun now shining right through the curtains as a cool breeze rustled them. 

I watched as a butterfly drifted into sight, sitting on my window and opening its wings. 

It had one blue wing and one brown wing. 

I thought back to my mom, the ache of losing her still present, though not as bad. 

I thought of Johnny. The ache felt like a slap as I let out another pained sob. 

Emotions tore through me like a tidal wave as I focused on that one butterfly, the light reflecting the wings like it does a diamond. 

"Johnny," I whispered his name over and over in a mantra. It was almost like a prayer falling from a sinner's lips as if to beg for forgiveness. 

I fell asleep watching the sunset, finding peace in agony. 

The butterfly stayed until the end. It fluttered its wings every once in a while as if to remind me I'm not alone. 


End file.
